


Use Your Body, Use Your Words

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Gangbang, Gaslighting, HYDRA Trash Party, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 23:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: During the elevator fight prior to Project Insight, Hydra came up with a way to make the whole take-down easier.  Or so they thought.  But mixing super-soldier biology with an aphrodisiac and a whole group of enemies in a small space probably wasn't the best idea...





	Use Your Body, Use Your Words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at [Hydra Trash Meme](https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2807.html?thread=6575607#cmt6575607)

No one on the squad could figure out later whether it had been a mistake, a deliberate oversight, or done with full knowledge of the consequences. The plan had been to capture Captain America in advance of Insight so he couldn’t interfere, with the added bonus of giving the Hydra science division something to study. The initial plan hadn’t been bad, considering the very limited time frame they had to work with: collect Rogers in the Triskellion, get him in an elevator where he couldn’t run, cram him in with overwhelming odds, then cuff and subdue him. Science division though, had something to sweeten the pot.

Rumlow had watched, amused, as all of their stun batons got the modification of an injection delivery system.

“What’re they going to be packing, tranqs?” he asked.

“Oh no!” the woman had said brightly, packing a vial of something bright red into each baton. “Or well, not entirely. Some tranquilizer is in the mix, but he’d expect that. The other major component is an aphrodisiac! It’ll keep his mind on other things than fighting.”

Brock had laughed out loud at that, everyone had. The bonus of being able to get back at Rogers for his having to endure his sanctimonious bullshit before handing him over to the higher-ups was _very_ appealing.

But everyone had been so focused on getting Rogers out of the game that no one had paused to think that with a dozen men all swinging their drugged batons in an enclosed space, that no one other than the target was going to get hit. And no one had really stopped to consider what the effects of a tranquilizing aphrodisiac would have on the average Joe.

By the time Brock had desperately injected Rogers in the gut in a last-ditch effort to get him under the influence, he himself was starting to succumb to the effects. His skin was triply sensitive, his muscles were like jelly, and all he wanted to do was lay there and orgasm his last remaining brain cells out. His thoughts were sluggish and he was achingly hard and horny. Everyone else was in the same damn boat, eyes glazed and half-lidded, squirming out of their confining clothes like snakes shedding their skin.

Rogers though… it looked like all the drug had done was replace his indomitable drive to fight with a drive to fuck. His face was sweating and his pants looked fit to burst. He literally tore his uniform off, his shield banging against the wall, and grabbed the nearest person, Mason. He was heavy-limbed and unresisting as Rogers flipped him onto his knees. Moaning like an animal, Rogers’ hand flew over his reddened erection, flushed and huge and sopping wet with precum. He came within a half-dozen strokes, a damn fountain of come spattering Mason’s ass. Rogers barely hesitated, not even going soft for a second, and spent about five second roughly shoving his come inside Mason’s hole with two fingers.

Mason’s eyes were dilated as hell as Rogers reared back and buried his dick inside Mason’s ass with a look of exquisitely painful relief. He thrust another handful of times, then suddenly reached down to grab Rollins, Hudson, and Westfahl. The first two he pressed their faces to his huge pecs and their pert nipples, hard and tight enough now to cut glass. 

“Suck,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Probably feeling as languid and horny and desperate for stimulation as Rumlow, and also knowing they’d probably be next on the buffet line of deep dicking if they didn’t, Rollins and Hudson went to work with sloppy enthusiasm. Rogers shoved Westfahl behind him, right at eye level with his peach of an ass. “Lick.” Westfahl applied his tongue to Rogers’ asshole apparently without a second’s thought, and some part of Rumlow was going to give him all kinds of shit for that later. But right now all Rumlow could do was watch, his body too heavy and sensitive, idly toying with himself with hands that just couldn’t get coordinated enough to give him any real action. All he could do was wait for what he knew was going to happen. He was too hot, unable to really move, and a deep, sick thrill was running through him watching Rogers bend his perfect body to the task at hand with no thought for anything else.

Rogers frantically thrust in Mason’s ass until he came, then pulled out and spilled on the floor, still coming buckets. He grabbed Rollins next, shoving him down as he swept Mason aside and used his other hand to bring Rumlow up to his oversized, perky chest. He didn’t have to say anything, because it was really damn clear what Rogers was going to demand from him. Rumlow wanted to turn his head away, but his skin was starved for any action, any stimulation. Rogers’ perky little nipple slipped between his lips and Rumlow sucked, leaning heavily against Rogers as he prepped Rollins with the same haste and then reamed him frantic thrusts.

Rogers became a fucking machine, pulling men into place to service his body, discarding those who’d been fucked only to grab for them again when his lust refused to be quenched. Rumlow had felt that sick thrill inside of him crescendo as Rogers had shoved him down for the first time, hot cum splashing against his skin, then two thick fingers pushing that heat inside him. There was no way to stop what came next, but when the first powerful, painful thrust of Rogers’ dick invaded his body, Rumlow came harder than he ever had in his life, grunting softly as his orgasm reverberated again and again in his system. The drug made it impossible for him to tense up against Rogers, and things got easier as Rogers plowed him over and over, balls slapping and stinging, pushing against something inside Rumlow that felt so fucking good that he just closed his eyes to enjoy it. He opened them again as Rogers flooded him with heat, then dropped him to the side to grab another unresisting body. Rumlow’s face burned as he laid there, asshole twitching with the remembered sensation, body craving nothing more than to do it again.

Luckily, Rogers didn’t let him wait too long as he worked his way through the whole team, and then just grabbed Mason again, dick still raring to go. Rumlow was privately amazed at how uninhibited Rogers was once you took his moral superiority out of the equation. The science division was going to have a field day with him. Vaguely Rumlow was pissed at the higher-ups for this stupid plan, but he didn’t see the genius of it until Rogers had grabbed him for the second time. He had Rumlow on his side so he could lift up his leg and get some more leverage. It had felt even better this time around, extra big and filling, the way already slicked with plenty of cum. When Rogers gripped him firmly to fuck into him with a slightly different angle, Rumlow managed to say, “I can’t stop you.” He’d meant it as a sort of stupid joke on this whole fucked-up situation, a call back to all those times Rogers had gone off solo on missions and Rumlow hadn’t been able to stop him. Just a lousy quip to pass the time while they were stuck in this drugged Wonderland of fucking.

Rogers’ expression abruptly went haunted, shocked, and even horrified through his need.

“I _can’t_ stop, Rumlow. I’ve tried, but I need it so bad, it burns,” he gasped out. Rumlow abruptly realized that some of the moisture trickling down Rogers’ face wasn’t from sweat.

And suddenly it didn’t matter that Rogers’ dick was rearranging Rumlow’s internal organs while he was being fucked on top of everyone’s spunk-and-sweat-soaked discarded clothing, a discarded boot jamming itself into his spine. It didn’t matter that Rumlow was seeing stars with every thrust and wondering if somehow he could muster up enough energy to sit on Rollins’ dick after Rogers was done with him, just to give him a little more action between the next inevitable round of fucking. What _mattered_ was that Rogers cared what people thought about him. And Rumlow didn’t, not if it served Hydra.

“God, it hurts,” he groaned, letting a wave of pleasure from Rogers’ relentless assault on his prostate turn his smirk into a slack-jawed moan that could have been interpreted as pain. “Stop, Rogers, stop…”

Rollins was lolling on the floor next to him, probably next to be fucked, and stared at Rumlow like he’d lost his mind. No one had asked for this, but everyone in this elevator was feeling nothing but good and they all had the overwhelming desire to come. Rumlow tossed him a brief conspiratorial wink, and Rollins got the play immediately. After all, this whole “attack” was being recorded.

“I can’t stop, oh God…” Rogers’ voice was a sob as he came satisfactorily deep inside Rumlow. He let himself fall to the side as Rollins let himself flop within range, Rogers helplessly grabbing and plowing into Rollins’ ass to stop the relentless pressure building in his balls. Rollins moaned like a dying animal, and Rogers looked utterly devastated. The rest of the team got the idea quickly, adding pathetic pleas to Rogers’ reaming of Rollins. Goddamn _tears_ were streaming down Rogers’ face as he came into Rollins, pulled out, and turned just enough to pull Westfahl onto his dick.

All of STRIKE were weapons to serve Hydra. Whether they were sore from getting beat up by Rogers in trying to capture him, or sore from letting Rogers fuck them to put himself into a nervous breakdown, it made no difference as long as the job was done. If Rumlow could act like a good SHIELD soldier for years, he could play a whiney victim for a few hours if it meant fucking with Rogers’ head.

Rumlow kept up the act as Rogers cycled through the team a third time, letting himself go totally limp and whimpering as Rogers moved his hips at the same, frantic pace, his energy not running out despite this having gone on for hours. Still sobbing with overstimulation and need, as he hadn’t had a single break, Rogers came again into Rumlow with a soft cry. As Rumlow let himself fall, faking a sob, he could see Rogers dick was angry purple and red, visibly throbbing, and his balls were hugely swollen. How many times had they hit him with their drugged batons? At least six or seven times, maybe more. His dick spurted a last few pulses as Rogers shuffled on his bruised knees, openly in agony as he blindly grabbed for another ass to fuck as if it was the only thing that mattered.

Rumlow just laid there and quietly moaned, trying not to laugh, as the great Captain America resumed his animalistic rutting, wondering how fast Sitwell could get the footage ready to destroy Rogers once and for all.


End file.
